Page 108 of A Figure of Love

He was beside her, their bodies entwined. They’d both fallen asleep after their lovemaking, but something had woken her. She now knew it had been the tension in his body: he was having a nightmare.

“Gareth?” She slid a hand under his chin. “Are you awake?”

He gave a slight nod and his eyelids drooped as he exhaled slowly. “Yes, I’m awake.”

She opened her mouth to ask about his dream, but then closed it. When he wanted to take her into his confidence, he would. Until then, she owed him love without reservation.

“Declan and I lived in the house of a Mr. William Jensen, a man who claimed to operate an orphanage, yet never placed any of the children he took in—at least not with families or legitimate employers.” He turned onto his back and stared up at the darkened canopy above their heads. “There were those who stayed only a short time—comely girls and boys who would disappear after they’d been well-fed and their bones no longer showed. They would leave one day, dressed in new clothing, bound for some new life.” He looked down at her, his eyes bleak in the low light. “Dec and I used to envy them. Before we knew better.”

He slid an arm beneath her and pulled her close. “I can’t remember a time I wasn’t there. I’ve since concluded I might have been either Mr. Jensen’s son, or perhaps some relative’s child. He brought Declan home when he was perhaps six. Jensen had caught him picking pockets in a crowd outside the old Drury Theater. He was dirty and half-wild, but Jensen must have seen something in him.” Gareth shook his head. “I don’t know why Dec was alone. Perhaps he worked for one of the men who ran gangs of children to steal and work for them. Or maybe his family left or died or were arrested and he had to fend for himself. He’s never said, and I have never asked him. Jensen kept us away from the other children, giving us a room together. There were never many children at his orphanage, but he didn’t want us getting to know any of the others for some reason.”

His hand traced idly up and down her arm, which had begun to sprout goose pimples, but this time not from the cold.

“We became a team, Dec and I. Jensen would host card parties—and parties for other activities, as we would learn eventually. He and his associate, a Mrs. Burgess, who did not live at the orphanage, but who must have served as a procuress, would set various traps for their guests.” He paused and looked at her. “What I am going to say will be upsetting.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Dec and I were novelties. We would serve drinks and food and so forth. The whole time I would watch the cards and let Jensen know how to bid. Sometimes the men would take a break that lasted for a while. I know now that they went to the rooms prepared by Mrs. Burgess. Rooms where they could indulge in other tastes.” He squeezed her tight. “They sold children—virgins—to the men who came to play. I learned later they would blackmail their clients afterward.”

Serena had seen terrible things during the War—and she’d suffered at the hands of such men herself. But raping a child was a level of darkness she’d never let her mind imagine.

“With my skill at cards, I was too valuable for such things but I’d noticed a change in Declan. He’d become sullen and withdrawn—even with me. Jensen punished him more and more, yet to less and less avail. You see, Serena, Jensen’s punishment was to lock us in the old cellar under the building. Nothing but rubbish and vermin and damp rot and darkness. It had not taken many trips to the cellar to convince me I should always pay attention when Jensen was at the card table.”

His hand dug into her shoulder so hard it hurt, but she just pushed closer to his body, which had begun to sweat in the cool night air.

“But Dec had a harder head. Or maybe he just liked it better in the cellars than he did in the rooms where Jensen sent him.”

He took several deep breaths and Serena wanted to tell him he could stop—that she didn’t want to know. The truth was, she didn’t want to know. But he had to tell her, that much was painfully clear.

“One night one of the guests took a fancy to me. I must have been twelve, perhaps thirteen—I’m not sure when my birthday is and Jensen never mentioned such things. In any event, the man kept giving me coins with each little thing I brought. He seemed so . . . happy to give them to me. Jensen must have thought so, too. I don’t know who the man was, but when he got up to take a stroll he asked me to join him. Declan was there. I believed he was sulking because of all the money I’d earned. Not that I would be allowed to keep any of it. But he jumped to his feet and shouted, No! as we were about to leave the room.

“The gentleman rushed me away but I could hear Jensen’s voice, ordering Declan to his room and telling him he’d been a very bad boy. Jensen never ordered any of us to our rooms as punishment—it was only the cellar. He must not have wanted to do that in front of his customers, thinking to punish Declan after they’d all gone. Instead of going to his room Declan followed me and my new friend, who led me to a door that was always kept locked, a bedroom of a sort I’d never seen before. It was filled with tools for any perversion imaginable, and many that are not.

“He shut the door but did not think to lock it—after all, he must have paid a good deal of money to have me. If I wasn’t there to count cards and help him, Jensen would likely be losing money. When the man asked me to sit on his knee, I knew I didn’t want to be there. He was the sort of man who enjoyed rough play and he had me—a scrawny youth—pinned to the bed with one knee when the door flew open and a ball of rage descended on him.”

“Declan,” she breathed.

“The very same. Unfortunately, Mrs. Burgess must have been nearby. She came and pulled Declan off the man’s ear, which he’d bitten hard enough that there was blood everywhere. She led the screaming man from the room and locked us inside. We were there for hours—long enough to placate their customer, get rid of the other guests, and then come back to deal with us.” He shook his head at whatever was in his memory.

“Jensen had missed the fact we had both grown and were no longer little boys. Declan, in particular, had developed a good deal of brawn. Jensen entered the room and struck me across the face with his fist. I must have been dazed for a few moments because the next thing I knew, Declan was on top of Jensen, his hand holding a bloody knife. He must have struck Jensen just so, because he was dead within minutes.”

“Oh, Gareth!”

He looked down at her voice, his expression bland. And that was when she realized how thick his mask was—and just how little it concealed when you came to know the real man beneath it.

“Mrs. Burgess had already left, no doubt believing Jensen had us firmly in hand—just as he had for years. We ransacked his study but could not get to the real money, which was in a safe in the wall. There were perhaps nine others in the orphanage—all chosen for their handsome looks—and we told them to take what they could find and run.”

“Where did you go? You were only boys.”

He shrugged. “We were safer away from Jensen. We hid with hundreds of others, down by the river, under bridges, wherever we could escape the weather or bigger, meaner thugs than ourselves.

“It was Declan who came up with the idea of making me look older and trying our luck at a gambling hell. He was smart and had learned from Jensen how to remove only the down from a duck and not leave it bare.” His lips curved into an ironic smile. “Soon we had enough money to get off the streets. I knew a life at the card tables would never end well and when the little shop where we bought our victuals closed, we offered to invest our money if a look at the legers showed any chance of saving the business. It did, as they almost always do.” He glanced down at her. “That was the beginning.” He frowned and then raised a hand to brush a tear from her cheek. “Have you been crying again?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Don’t cry for me, Serena. I am one of the lucky ones.”

“This is why you wanted to marry well—to influence our government to do something about these horrid men?”